Our Background Faces
by She'sAManiac
Summary: They’re the unknowns of Sacred Heart. Like extras in a stupid TV show that’ve only been given small parts for the hell of it, they mince around the hospital doing small, unrecognised things when they can. So let’s switch the dial, just for this one time.
1. Prologue

They're the unknowns of Sacred Heart. Like extras in a stupid TV show that've only been given small parts for the hell of it, they mince around the hospital doing small, unrecognised things when they can. They're the nameless, the background people. And maybe once, just once, they could be the stars of the show. Maybe just once, they can stop being cameos and actually have people listen to them. Because their stories are interesting too, in fact probably more interesting than the people who get the most attention in this hospital. Like them, they've seen and heard things in this place, and like them, they have their stories to tell. Stories that are vital, just unknown. So let's switch the dial, just for this one time. And let's see the realities of the background faces.


	2. Dr Mickhead

**Note-Dear rarax1, thanks for your lovely review! The big one I was working one was the Halloween story, this just came to me recently.**** Also thanks to My_Alphabet_Soup, for her reviews of awesomeness. Also, I don't know the full facts about the arrest, so some bits might be wrong.**

He hadn't killed his wife. She'd been at home when two people broke into the house. She'd tried to call the police, but one of the men saw her, took a hammer that was lying on the table, whacked her on the head and ran. By the time Walter Mickhead got home, she was already lying on the kitchen linoleum, cold, stiff and very dead.

He could remember bending down and touching her face, stroking it with shaking hands. Then he bent down to pick up the hammer, and looked at the blood soaking into the silvery metal. Then he called the cops, and spent the rest of the night in a motel, crying into the sheets, and staring at the ceiling, very much awake.

"_Hello, Miss Cardon, I'm Dr Mickhead. I see here you were admitted for swollen lymphnodes and abdominal pain…"_

It was a wonder he was still a doctor, really.

He'd gone back to work the day after, mainly just to try and keep his mind off the images of Helen lying on the floor.

"Walter, what's wrong?"

He had turned to see Nurse Candy Jenkins watching him anxiously. Candy was a good friend of his, a lifetime companion.

"Helen died"

"What? Oh my god, Walt…"

Then he'd started to hyperventilate, so he ran into a supply closet to calm down. But Candy had followed him. Then she had kissed him, and before he knew it, they were making out. Then that young black haired doctor, Dr Dorian, had walked in, given them a dirty look and walked out again. And Walter had followed him.

"_We've got you booked in for a MRI scan at twelve, Miss Cardon, so I'll get an orderly to send up a wheelchair…"_

Looking back, he realised that not macking with Candy was a mistake. Aside from Nurse Roberts and Nurse Espinosa, she was the biggest gossip in the hospital. And she was not a pretty sight when she was mad.

"Dude, I heard he took out his wife with a hammer while she was washing up!" he'd heard one intern say to another. He still heard it sometimes. He just shrugged it off, and carried on.

It was too late when he realised that his fingerprints were all over the hammer. He'd tried to pass it off to someone (who turned out to be Dr Dorian's girlfriend), unsuccessfully. But by then it was too late, and he was the number one suspect. When they'd nailed him, he'd cried and protested and struggled. But it was too late. And while he was dragged from the hospital premises, Candy had stood by and shook her head mockingly.

The next few weeks in prison were hell. Crap food, a cellmate who resembled Dr Hooch in craziness and excruciatingly painful exercise regimes. Walter had spent every night crying himself to sleep, then waking up due to nightmares of Helen's ghost.

Then they finally let him out. He was amazed that Dr Kelso let him have his job back ("Don't worry sport" Kelso had said. "The amount of times I've fantasised about doing the same to Enid…at least you actually had the guts!"), and the majority of the hospital seemed to let him be. They avoided him…but at least he was on his own. And that was all he really needed, even if it wasn't what he wanted.

"_You're such a nice young man, Dr Mickhead!"_

"_Why thank you, Miss Cardon"_

Yep. Wonder he was still a doctor, really…


	3. Snoop Dogg Attending

**Note-****Thanks for all your awesome reviews! Love you all! Oh, and rarax1, I am unfortunately Bill Lawrence's muse/brainchild. I wish…**

**Note-Ok, so I was a little stuck on this chapter, but it was a lot harder than Mickhead.**

"Morning, JD"

"Wassup, dawg! Keepin' it real?" JD replied. Ronald sighed. JD was the only person in the hospital who was that bad when trying to sound black. Even he didn't do that, and he was, well…" Snoop Dogg Attending".

Not that he used his nickname. He hated it and detested it. His name badge said Ronald Corbell, not Snoop Dogg! Sure, he looked like the famous rap star, but did that mean he was? Did the way his face was set out mean that he wasn't respected as a doctor? Recognition just for a nickname…wonderful.

You could say he'd been brought up in "the hood". He was born and raised in Baltimore, the supposed crime capital of America. His momma had always been big into education. And so had he. Learning was the way he could pretend to try and ignore the family dramas that made his life so much like an episode of The Wire. While his father was arrested for drug possession, he had sat and read To Kill A Mockingbird at the police station.

"Yo, Snoop Dogg Attending! Wassup, bro?"

"Hey, Dr Turk…"

Corbell. His damn name was Ronald Corbell, damnit! Sometimes he knew how Dr Hooch felt…

"_Hey, Ronnie McDonald! Get yo ass over here, you loser!"_

Sometimes he wasn't sure which nickname was worse.

Omar Small was the local bully at Ronald's high school. Every lunchtime Omar would steal his school books and money to copy his homework. One day, Omar beat him up pretty bad because he'd forgotten his lunch money. A black eye, lost tooth and multiple bruises made Ronald realised his true calling.

He'd had to earn the cash for med school by doing impersonation performances. He'd rapped his way through college, and wasn't proud of it. While he was supposed to be revising for exams he was out reciting Gin and Juice to a bored crowd. He wasn't proud of those years. At all.

"Snoop Dogg Attending! How's your penis?"

"Good morning, Dr Quinlan…"

God, he hated that damn nickname! It haunted him. All he wanted was to be a good doctor, professional in his work. Yes, sometimes his Baltimore upbringing could be heard in his dialect, but what was a guy supposed to do?

"Ronnie!"

Ronald turned his head, and grinned as he saw the only person in Sacred Heart who called him by his real name.

"Hey, Josie baby!"

Josephine jumped up and hugged him. He kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her tight.

Yeah, he hated his nickname.

But he was who he was.

Ronnie Corbell.

"Snoop Dogg Attending"


	4. Dr Beardfacé

**Note-****Thanks to all my faithful reviewers. You guys make my days. Also, I made him British because…well, doesn't he have an accent? Or am I the only one?**

Of course, Snoop Dogg Attending was not the only one with a hated nickname. There also stand another Background Man looking in on the action, just there. Always there, never moving, never speaking, apart from the protest which has become his catchphrase:

It's Beardfacé, damnit!

Seymour Beardfacé patrolled the doors of Sacred Heart, ignoring the greetings that were flung his way. Every time someone got his name wrong, it was like someone had chucked an unexpected Jiggly ball at his head.

He made his way into the cafeteria, and sat down at a table. Presently he felt something flick at his chin, and he turned his head sharply. Dr Dorian and Dr Kelso were sitting at a table, eating. Seymour sighed as he saw their plates. Macaroni day.

He turned back, as he felt a few more pieces of pasta slap his face. He pretended not to notice. One day, he was sure; he would snap and destroy the cafeteria. He just had to try and pretend to be normal until that day came. Whenever it was.

He got, and chucked the remainder of his chicken mayo sandwich in the bin. Stalking out of the room, he made his way into the on-cal room. He'd just had a night shift, and needed to sleep. He lay down on the bed, and his eyes gradually began to close…

"_Seymour? Seymour!"_

_Seymour turned. He was ten years old again, and a pretty young woman was standing in front of him._

"_Seymour, darling! Where were you?" she asked. She had a pretty British accent, dark hair that was almost black and a floral dress that hung off her petite frame._

"_Sorry, mummy! I was playing doctors!" Seymour laughed. He ran up to his mother. She enveloped him in a hug, and he squirmed as she kissed his cheek._

"_Seymour?" came a gruffer voice. Seymour wriggled out of his mother's arms to see an older man standing there._

"_You shouldn't run off, Seymour! Mummy and me where very worried!" said the German man._

"_But I'm a big boy!" Seymour protested. "I can go where I want to!"_

"_You can't spend your time playing doctors!"_

"_Yes I can, daddy! I'm going to go to America and be a famous doctor and help sick people get better!"_

"_You can't go, you're much too young!" chimed in his mother._

"_No, I'm old…" said Seymour. Suddenly, he realised that his face had sprouted a thick, bushy beard, and it was growing rapidly, covering his face whole face and his body…_

"_You have an old man's beard, Beardface!" yelled his mother._

"_Beardface, Beardface…" his parents called out, and suddenly Seymour's beard was covering his mouth so he couldn't breath…_

Seymour gasped, and woke up with a start.

"Beardface? Beardface?" said Dr Turk, who was standing in the doorway. "Your patient Mr Davidson needs to be prepped for surgery"

Then he left.

Seymour sighed, and lay back. He would snap someday. Just a matter of wait and see, was all. Wait and see…


	5. Colonel Doctor

**Note-****Final chapter! Thanks for reading and being so damn nice, folks! PS: sorry My_Alphabet_Soup and rarax1, but I won't a do a Hooch or Franklyn one. I'll leave those honours up to you.**

Coleman sighed. Lloyd was late. He looked at his watch and folded his arms. His son had probably lost his new Metallica CD, or whatever pounding, headachy garbage he was listening to nowadays. Damn him. He had a doctors conference he needed to get to by five, and it was already four thirty!

Lloyd had used to be such an obedient child when he was little. Coleman had fond memories of his son toddling around on the floor with a little Tonka Truck in his chubby little fist. Fond memories…

But those memories wouldn't stay fond forever. Coleman was coming on in age, and was starting to become forgetful. A few days ago he'd looked at a photo on the mantelpiece to find that he had completely forgotten where the photo was taken, and had had to ask his wife Gloria to remind him. He had remained in complete shock for the rest of the day. After all, he didn't want to go the same way as Dr Towsend!

At least he could still remember his name. Although that in itself was a bit of a joke. Coleman Slawski, what had his father been thinking? At least he had learnt to laugh along with his nickname, unlike Seymour, who just got more and more sour every day. Anyway, he rather liked it. It was like a term of endearment of sorts, even if he was a vegetarian.

He looked at his watch again. Twenty to. Where the heck was Lloyd? He was running late! Although it was rather a shame; Coleman never thought he spent enough time with his son. There had always been the division of work. He was always at the hospital and Lloyd was always off on deliveries. And anyway, they were two very different people. Lloyd liked speed metal and convincing himself he was dying; Coleman liked jazz and playing chess. They used to interact whenever Lloyd persuaded himself he had SARS, and one of the nurses passed him onto his dad ("He's your son, you deal with it!"). But over time, they had just given up, and given Lloyd over to other doctors. Now the only time they really saw each other was when his son gave him a lift to and from the hospital.

If Coleman honest with himself he rather missed treating Lloyd, odd as that seemed. It was the only time they'd really had to spend together, and now that was pretty much over. He didn't see his son as much as he used to. He knew he never had to deal with anything serious, and his son was one of the best hypochondriacs he'd ever treated. He'd ended up with three today. One was a most unpleasant young man called…oh, damn, what was his name…? Coleman sighed again. Once again, his memory had failed him.

Suddenly, he heard a loud honk, and looked up. A large van was hurtling into the driveway. Coleman smiled. There was his son, finally. Sure enough, the van drew up beside him, and the window opened. Lloyd stuck his head out, and grinned. Behind him, Coleman could hear a rattling bass line thumping from the stereo system.

"Hey, dad!" smiled Lloyd. Coleman smiled back, and made his way to the other side of the van. He got in, and was greeted with Lloyd shrieking along to the music.

"Hey, son" he muttered, and planted a quick kiss on the side of his son's head. "How've you been?"

"Good…this conference is on Tower Block, right?"

"You know what?" Coleman smiled. "Let's not go to the conference"

"What?"

"Let's not go to the conference. Let's go somewhere else"

"Where?"

"Anywhere you like. I missed you, son"

"Me too, dad!"

Lloyd accelerated out of the car park, almost reversing into a just-discharged patient. The van careered through the driveway and through onto the highway.

"Me too…"


End file.
